


Scattering Petals

by VariantAngel



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Conquest Ending, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VariantAngel/pseuds/VariantAngel
Summary: I sacrifice this life, not out of despair, but for the sake of love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT written by me, but is a commission I got from the amazing ryo-maybe on tumblr. I have already received permission to post this.
> 
> I just wanted some good, heartbreaking content; don't judge.
> 
> Also, please take note of the tags. It doesn't get graphic or anything, which is why I kept it at a Teen rating, but it's better to be cautious.

The air reverberated with the sound of music cutting through the silence one note at a time. Like dew dripping from a petal after a nightly drizzle, these gentle laments drifted between the walls attempting to contain them and the outside, contaminating the garden view beyond the open sliding door with their melancholy vibes. A pond lied there, dominating a great part of the scenery: therein swam fish that, braving through the chilly waters and their own natural cowardice, would reach for the clear surface, as if hoping that the vibrations being born and dying across it meant savory food had been cast out to them by the mysterious hand of their owner. But they would soon recognize that the emptiness of their wish mirrored that of those expanding circles, and would thus leave in disappointment like wounded soldiers fleeing a lost battle, so much did the patches of vivid red painted across their milky white scales resemble such a depressingly familiar scene.

A morbid thought with an aftertaste of melancholic longing.

_It has already been one year since then._

Hesitation put a dent in the rhythmical harmony that the girl had flawlessly been weaving for almost an entire hour. Her fingers hovered for a passing instant above the strings from which, with practiced skill, they’d been plucking tunes like they could have done with the ripened fruit of a tree in full blossom. A few attempts followed suit to reprise the lost flow, to no avail, until at last the girl let go of a sigh, and of any hopes to find her focus back.

“Enough.” she whispered, and in that single word, pushed out of her lips as if under the effects of unnatural strain, lied something other than the usual serenity which endeared her voice to others. A hint of harshness, with a fearsome sense of finality that went well beyond the mere conclusion of today’s play session. A plead of help, perhaps? But to whom, and for what purpose? There is no point in seeking aid to solve an inexistent problem. Yes, indeed, any troubles worth crying over had long since been dealt with, as if washed away by the very tears shed over them. Then, if that was the case…

“Lady Sakura, it’s time for our practice session!“

Startled by the sudden voice crying out from within the internal corridors, the red-haired princess of Hoshido, Sakura, awoke from her reverie to find that she’d been staring at her own hands, left to rest limply on her lap. With a listless gaze she studied the plectra that protruded almost threateningly like claws, and the fingers wearing them, their once smooth skin blemished by the beginnings of calluses. A slight tremor pervading those digits made them look like spiders writhing in their deathly throes: Sakura wondered if it was the strings’ vibrations echoing inside them, the cold winter air seeping in from the garden caked in snow, or something else altogether – something that came from within.

“Lady Sakura! If you’re too tired today, we can just skip… Sakura?”

The princess turned her head to find the familiar visage of her retainer and trusted friend Hana, staring back with the same concern into which her chipper tone had devolved. Silence filled the absence of words that for a brief moment the two women shared – a quietness that couldn’t have felt less familiar to the kind Sakura had found so enjoyable in bygone days. Back when the hallways of Castle Shirasagi would be graced by the lovely voice of her mother, the loud huffs exuded by her brothers as they engaged in their heated sparring, the soothing songs that left Azura’s breast… this ugly stillness had been left in their stead. A world without tears nor laughter.

A devastatingly empty peace.

“It’s fine, Hana.” murmured Sakura, slowly standing after having relieved her hands of the plecters. An arched eyebrow still loomed worryingly over the princess nonetheless, and with good cause. She attempted to smile, and found herself nearly surprised by how quickly it came to adorn her mouth: Sakura felt sure that she could have cried her eyes out with just as much ease, had she chosen to do so. After all, she had little reason not to do either, yet just as much _not_ to.

“Are you absolutely certain? It wouldn’t hurt to take it easy just this one time…” Hana insisted, and her usual vehemence felt like a blessing. Sakura nodded and felt her smile grow more sincere with each second spent witnessing her friend’s consideration. Her true salvation, however, was the ignorance of just how inferior any care for her own wellbeing truly was.

“I’m… I’m fine. The winter air must be getting to me… Getting warm with some exercise would surely help. Shall we go, then?” came Sakura’s quick reply, her feet already shuffling over the wooden floor to impede any ulterior protests. The loyal retainer took a deep breath and decided to let go of her apprehensions, at least for the time being, following suit with enough renewed spirit for the both of them.

“Alright, but we’re stopping sooner today, okay? I mean, you’d be doing _both_ of us a favor.” added Hana, with a grin that failed utterly in hiding egregious amounts of bashfulness. “I’m still sore from the beatdown you gave me the other day. You keep this up and soon you won’t be needing me to watch over you!“

“No!”

Sakura’s yell bounced loudly across the corridor, startling both Hana and herself with its suddenness. They stood there, paralyzed, until a torrent of words started tripping all over themselves as they got out of Sakura’s mouth.

“I-I mean, don’t joke like that! Y-you make me sound like some kind of b-brute… an accident, it was just an a-accident! I’m still far f-from being anywhere near your level s-so…!“

_So don’t leave me like they did._

Cold beads of sweat rolled down Sakura’s visage, cast towards the floor to hide embarrassment and the real extent of her panic, as she awaited Hana’s reaction like some kind of fearsome, final judgment. Again, that sensation that churned her stomach, the stain inside her heart spreading like poison to taint her thoughts…  
Then came laughter. Loud, genuine, filled with cheer that felt like an alien concept to her. Sakura raised her head to find her vision filled with Hana’s outburst, the corners of her eyes glistening from sheer entertainment.

“Sorry, sorry! It’s just, you worrying like this about that kind of silliness was too funny… and nostalgic, in a way. Aah, that’s my Lady Sakura for you! When was the last time you stuttered like that, I wonder!“

The young women shared this mirth for a bit longer on their way to the training hall, a hint of tears clinging to Sakura’s own eyes. Unbeknownst to Hana, it was a feeling entirely unlike those that humor or embarrassment had given birth to in the past. They were tears born of mourning: for Sakura realized now more than ever that the person her retainer spoke of hadn’t truly resurfaced, for she’d died at some point in the past months, as if to follow her departed family, leaving behind some strange sort of husk slowly filling with viscous, suffocating sentiments.

“…And that’s about it. What are your thoughts, Your Majesty?“

 _Your Majesty_ , she said. Anytime someone addressed her so formally, she realized that the she wore her title like she did her rigid, flowing robes: with a lingering sense of discomfort, as if she was in charge of living the life of someone other than herself. It was almost tempting to give in to such musings too, only to immediately take a step back into the reality that had been thrust in her hands by circumstance. No, she had to relieve herself of these dangerous digressions that did nothing but exacerbate her inability to truly acknowledge this would be the way she’d live ‘til the end of her days.

* * *

As Queen Hinoka, ruler of Hoshido.

The fiery redhead acknowledged the brief account that Hana had given of her worries with a slight nod and a silent bite of her lower lip. An old habit, unbecoming of her current status – but it was an intrinsic part of what she perceived to be _herself_ , and thus one she wouldn’t be abandoning anytime soon. Sitting on the low table behind which she sat lied a seemingly endless array of documents that she barely could hope to decipher at the moment, so caught in her thoughts was she – and how could that not be? No mere matter of bureaucracy could have hoped to match the concern the queen harbored for the state of her dear sibling.

“M-my apologies!” It was Hana’s sudden outburst that broke the silence and stole Hinoka from her wordless mulling. Sitting across from the ruler on the tatami floor, she bowed her head fast enough to almost hit the desk in front of her. Hinoka didn’t know whether to worry more for the former or the latter, considering the hardness of both. “Bothering you like this while you have so much work to do was careless of me…

“No, no, it’s nothing too bad.” It was actually _worse_ , but the last either of them needed was for the situation to fall into an even more somber mood. “I might be a queen, but I’m Sakura’s sister first and foremost. What kind of ruler can hope to govern a country if she can’t even help her family in a pinch?“

The answer was a relief to Hana, yet when her head arose again, she could see all too clearly how strained Hinoka’s own smile was. Coupled with the dark circles that countless nights of sleepless work had drawn around her eyes, it made the sight of the once bright warrior pitiful to behold.

“I say that, and yet I’ve barely been able to spend any time with her this whole year. Some sister I am…” Hinoka’s voice trailed off into a murmur that felt as distant as the very clouds in the sky. Hana’s lips spread open, yet no comforting words came out, like they would have swiftly done in any other circumstances. Her jaw simply hung like that, kept from moving by the weight of an invisible hand clutching it – the sight of this young woman who had lost so much in exchange for her dream of peace to come true. Tiredness and a stubborn clinging to her resolve had done their number on Hinoka: to Hana, it appeared as if that face had experienced tenfold the time that had passed since that bloody, ugly conflict.

“Your Majesty, you…“

Hinoka shook her head, raising a hand between them. There was nothing royal in her apologetic expression. “I’m just rambling, don’t mind it. But you know, Hana, it’s not like I don’t understand your worries. I _am_ Sakura’s sister, after all. We might have had few chances to talk lately, but that was enough to notice something.”

There was an elaborate altar in this small, private room. Incense burned there, in front of the portraits of four people – the Hoshidan royals lost to the war. Hinoka’s gaze turned there, and Hana’s almost instinctively followed suit. A deeply felt nostalgia clung to the former’s eyes and serrated her mouth, flooding her mind with memories – some sweet, some painful, all of them so vivid she could recall them with exceptional clarity.

“It’s a strange thing, this peace. We fought so hard to achieve it, and yet… sometimes, I wonder, which time do I cherish the most? The past where my family was still alive and Nohr’s oppression loomed over us, or this tranquil present that they’ll never be able to enjoy?“

The queen of Hoshido sat her chin over her palm, elbow resting over documents stained with the ink of countless elaborate characters.

“More often than not, I’m too busy to mull things over like this, but I’m sure that Sakura’s plagued with similar thoughts. I might have made a mistake by refraining from giving her anything but the bare minimum of tasks to help with my role. I wanted to keep her from overexerting herself, yet… maybe I achieved the opposite. I wish I could know for sure.“

Her eyelids fell, plunging the fleeting sight of Hana’s bashfully lowered visage and of the altar into darkness. There, beyond the horizon of her inner thoughts, she could see them: her family, their kind smiles etched into eternity, and the end that befell each, trapped in the bittersweet duality of her recollections. From somewhere within that corner of her imagination, she heard Hana speak with nary a trace of her usual boldness.

“It can’t have been for nothing though… don’t you think so? Your Majesty?“

“Of course, there’s no question about it! But Sakura, maybe she… I don’t know. I wish my big brother was still alive. He’d have known…”

The murmur turned into a whisper and then died as little more than a breath on the tip of her tongue.

“Alright, enough moping around.” Hinoka suddenly exclaimed, slapping her face in a manner that was very much unlike a queen and taking ahold of her brush, along with a blank parchment from the pile beside her. “Time to take some drastic measures to cheer up my dear sister and as luck would have it, I know just the way. The flower viewing festival is going to take place a couple weeks from now, isn’t it? Sounds like the perfect time to invite some special guests. Here,” said Hinoka, hurriedly shoving the letter she’d hastily written in Hana’s surprised hands, “have this sent to the Nohrian court by pegasus with utmost haste.“

A bow and a myriad words of gratitude dropped with the same rush of excitement that had contaminated her later, Hana was making her way out, leaving the queen of Hoshido alone to let out a big breath and give a glance to the portraits of her dearly departed. A mixture of hope and worry swimming around her features like ingredients of a mysterious, potentially lethal concoction.

“Once again, someone else has to save you in my stead… dear sister of mine, just what kind of dark forest did you get lost into this time? I wonder if _they_ will be able to help you…”

* * *

“ _SA-KU-RAAAA!”_

A suffocating feeling, entirely different from that which had been oppressing her mind - a tangible, life-threatening grip, and perhaps the most welcome event to have befallen Sakura’s life in the last few months.

“E-Elise! I can’t breathe…!” The muffled sounds coming from the princess’ mouth sounded somewhat like this, in any case. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that the blond-haired girl finally relented and stepped back to flash a smile brighter than Hoshido’s sun, her fingers still firmly intertwined with Sakura’s own ones.

“I missed you sooo much! I got so bored waiting for your funny letters to come, you know?” A torrent of words flowed from Elise’s rapidly flapping lips while leaving a disoriented Sakura barely any time to take them, or the rapid succession of pouts and giggle that accompanied them, in. It didn’t matter anyway: it sufficed her to bask under the overwhelming aura of positiveness that exuded from the person she’d come to consider a friend to forget, if even temporarily, about the confusion she harbored within her heart.

A sweet lie fated to be snuffed like a fickle flame soon after it was born.

“It’s so good to see you again, sister.”

Sakura froze still – or, maybe, it would have been more correct to say that the world around her froze, turning into a picture for her to observe against her will. In the span of an instant, twelve months of accumulated dread erupted from within the recesses of her mind, crashing through the barricade of confusion behind which she’d unknowingly attempted to keep it at bay. The pathetic cruelty of a reality where life-changing realizations could strike in otherwise insignificant moments hit Sakura with the strength of a maelstrom that made the Wind Tribe Village’s pale by comparison. She beheld the answer to her most dreaded question standing in front of her with an expression flushed of all colors – the face of someone who had at last realized they’d known that answer since before they’d even posed the question to begin with.

Such a little thing, and yet capable of wreaking greater havoc than any conflict that had rended two whole countries asunder.

“S… sister…”

The sight of the heroic Nohrian princess Corrin dominated Sakura’s view as if hungrily devouring anything else that could have deprived it of the latter’s attention. In spite of the Hoshidan kimono that she, like Elise and the rest of the Nohrian siblings following behind her wore, she appeared exactly as ever: a charming beacon of courage that could so easily attract others to her like a magnet. But what she drew out of Sakura was nothing so pleasant – it was a gnawing feeling that eluded anything the Hoshidan princess believed a human could have felt in their life.

She could not stand the sight of that smile.

“It has been long, hasn’t it?“

An apologetic, little curve wrecked by miserable pangs of guilt that lingered like ghosts over it. A smile that was born solely for Hinoka and Sakura’s sake, and that had unwittingly doomed the latter. No matter what the circumstances, it was that smile which Corrin would show her whenever their gazes met amidst their sporadic, awkward attempts at conversations ‘to catch up on the lost time’, a smile that spoke more explicitly than any of her words. It was a smile only in its most basic, superficial shape – the absolute opposite of what a smile should have been.

_As if to say ‘I’m sorry’._

_Because you sincerely believe that ‘it was all your fault’._

A futile attempt to mend the wounds caused by her sins, almost _begging_ to receive the blame she believed justly deserved. And Sakura knew now, after having avoided that very expression for the last couple of months, why she’d wished to never see it again, at the cost of furthering the gap between her and her long lost sister.  
_Because she’d accepted the burden of that smile._

Such cruel kindness. In its misguided attempt to seek redemption, it had given birth to an emotion that never was there to begin with. It was the ultimate act of kindness that Sakura had poisoned herself with: her hatred was born out of love, to give validation to her sister Corrin’s need to assuage it. This cruel irony surfaced in full brunt now that those seeds planted earlier that year had blossomed within Sakura’s heart, leaving her at a loss with a truth she didn’t, she couldn’t know what to make of.

As she struggled with the tangled mess of emotions within her, the flow of time took on an erratic pace, devouring the entire day with famelic fervor that left her with bones of awareness picked nearly clean. Her body moved along, tugged by invisible strings connected to fingers that weren’t hers, acting upon the basest of its functions: she ingested the food at the festival’s stalls, echoed Elise’s joyous laughter and conversed with the Nohrian embassy with the spontaneous lack of feeling that characterized the Hoshidan automatons. Her body, separated from a mind drowning in its own reveries, had become a doll that simply imitated the original’s mannerisms with the sole exception of a systematic attempt to avoid any interactions with the cause of her inner turmoil as much as possible.

Ah, what an appealing prospect – to become a doll, empty and bereft of this estraneous venom devouring her from the inside… but it was not to be. She was full, full to the brim, and the falsehood called _hatred_ only kept increasing, nurtured by the misguided direction that her love had taken. Soon, it would be too much for her to contain; this wretched thing that wasn’t hers and didn’t belong to a peace that had already cost everything that mattered.

No, that couldn’t be allowed. She wouldn’t let herself – or Corrin, oh sister dearest – be consumed by it…  
It would be her ultimate act of love, the very reason this ugly sentiment had been born, that would at least free herself and Corrin of those invisible bindings that tied them.

* * *

“It has already been one year since then.”

Hinoka acknowledged those words with a simple nod, pouring more sake in the emptied dishes. She and Corrin raised them both and exchanged a silent drink – while not the first, hardly a trace of pink had yet to touch their cheeks. The thick veins spreading through the white of their eyes like big nets where the pupils had gotten caught more than made up for it.

“That ceremony… some nights, it still haunts my nightmares.” murmured Hinoka. The Nohrian princess, her head hanging low, watched her own trembling reflection, trapped inside the minuscule confines of the dish. Memories surfaced riding the reverberations across the alcohol’s surface, crystaline like images she could have witnessed only moments ago.

“How’s Elise faring these days?” inquired the Queen, her ears still fresh with the echo of the cries that had rung the loudest – how sorrowful the sight of those prone to cheer, when despair takes ahold of their heart.

“Better, definitely.” A fond smile found its way on the gray-haired woman’s lips, still wet with sake and the salt of the tears she’d been shedding a moment prior. “She’s maturing faster than ever, but she’s still a little bundle of happiness. I see her tending to the shrine you gifted us on a daily basis… she doesn’t miss a single day. It helped us siblings regain our wits a lot faster during these months.“

The mental image relieved some of the melancholy clinging to Hinoka – such was the boundless extent of the little Nohrian princess’ power to spread joy to others. And yet, it had not sufficed…

“That’s good to know. I wish I could help with that, but… Hana’s too stubborn, and I can’t find it in me to order to issue a formal, insincere apology…“

“It’s okay, sister. Nobody at the castle holds it against her. If anything, her words that day hit too close to home…“

Both women’s eyelids fell under the weight of that bitter memory. The only person whose cries echoed louder than Elise had been those of Sakura’s fateful retainer: venomous accusations spat from the bottom of a lingering resentment, splattering over the Nohrian delegation like the rain that had plagued the entire funeral ceremony. Hinoka shuddered, recalling the fierce interruption of the sermons by the desperate, tearstruck warrior, lashing out at the speechless nobles, the only thing saving them from tasting her blade being Subaki’s attempts to restrain her fellow colleague - even then, the queen had seen with unwelcome clarity, that the cold features of the redhaired pegasus rider made it clear his opinions mirrored Hana’s, just like the mourning Hoshidan spectators. And how could he not? What else could the Nohrians have done but hang their heads in deep shame and wallow in their guilt? Were they not responsible for the death of these two faithful retainers’ beloved master?

Hinoka exhaled deeply, bringing the sake dish to her lip once again. Along with Sakura, so had Subaki’s ‘perfect record’ died: his newfound humbleness, far from being welcome, was a sad reminder of the tragedy that had prompted such a change in him, while Hana simply wasted away in Castle Sumeragi, kept under strict watch for fear that she would commit an act of ultimate loyalty to follow her dear friend and superior in another life.

“It’s all my–“

“Don’t you dare say that.” Hinoka’s growl made Corrin bite her tongue; her flaring gaze held a fierce note that was unknown even to to her brashest moments, back during the war.

“I miss her, Corrin. I miss all of my family so, so terribly, but none of them died meaninglessly - not even Sakura. It’s hard, but the least I can do is to accept Sakura’s will, and so should you. I won’t let anyone, _anything_ , turn my dear sister’s death into a pointless act.”

A stream of tears cut through Hinoka’s visage, dying on the lower lip she was biting hard enough to draw blood out of it. Beyond her blurry vision, behind the hardness of Hinoka’s expression, Corrin could perceive the desperate struggle that her sister was conducting. Their hands met across the table and shared the warmth that words could not, as they silently wept the rest of their mutual sorrow away.

* * *

Somewhere in the courtyard outside the room, a cherry blossom in full bloom displayed its beautiful pink petals, only for the passing breeze to steal them away, like time had done to the innocent girl that had taken her life underneath it but a year ago, perhaps remembering how she’d once been told that her name derived from that very same, charming tree. She found the poetic charm of ending things where they could be said to have begun strangely comforting, as if supporting her decision with a seemingly prophetic appeal. There, under the scattering flowers, she let the blade of a knife draw her own life, but she bore the pain with a serene smile, clutching a letter addressed to her beloved ones – her faithful retainers, her sister Hinoka, the sweet Elise, and of course, the recipient of her final act as the last true piece of the everlasting peace’s foundation. Drawing her last breath, Sakura’s last thought went to Corrin, echoing the words that, in elegantly flowing characters, concluded her last remarks.

_I sacrifice this life, not out of despair, but for the sake of love._


End file.
